Two Slayers, One Dead
by Fyrie
Summary: An old friend is brought back in the guise of a new enemy.


Curled – foetal-like – in the darkness, splinters and shards of wood prickled against her bare skin, chilly sweat and warm blood mingling in an insepperable blend on her bruised and throbbing flesh

Curled – foetal-like – in the darkness, splinters and shards of wood prickled against her bare skin, chilly sweat and warm blood mingling in an insepperable blend on her bruised and throbbing flesh.

Skewers of light glinted through the cracks in the panels, the planks squeaking and creaking with every jolt of the vehicle, bumping the inhabitant of the crate violently back and forth, her body limp and boneless.

Distantly, voices drifted into her awareness, faint and bemusing. The scent of diesel fumes and the rumbling of the truck – or whatever her prison was in – blotted out most everything else.

Raising one trembling hand from the wooden floor, she touched the open tear on her forehead, the snake of scarlet gumming to the tips of her fingers, a low moan of pain escaping her lips.

Her head had smacked off the side of her wooden prison when she had been thrown into it, the pounding of nails being driven home sealing her in. Weak, disorientated and scared, she had let unconsciousness take her.

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours that she had been floating in the darkness. She couldn't tell and wasn't sure if she would have woken up if she had known what she would be waking up in.

Curling up into as small and tight a ball as she could, she let her eyes sink closed, trying to focus beyond the smell and sound of the transport, trying to find some clue where she was and what she was doing back.

Without warning, the tyres screeched on the road, the lorry chugging to a slow halt, leaving the girl slammed painfully up against the side of her prison.

Immediately, the scent of nature reached her, carried on the light breeze that cleared the thickest waves of petroleum fumes away, her head still throbbing from them. 

Crickets chirped softly, in the distance, but the majority of sounds that reached her were those of her captors, as they climbed up to unload the solid, wooden entity that had become her cell.

Bracing hands and feet against the walls, she whimpered painfully as the crate dropped, tipping on its side, leaving her slumped against what had been the lid, a wave of dizzying pain washing over her.

Perhaps unconsciousness came again, but the first thing she became aware of were voices, nearby. Talking in soft, angry tones, she strained to pick up the words, catching mentions of. "Complete…delivery made…transaction complete…Slayer to destroy the key…one solution…"

A crash made her jump, cowering back against the side of the crate, the shocked silence outside the dark box unnerving.

"Hello, boys." A feminine voice spoke, clear and commanding. "Do you mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"It's her!"

"My God!"

The female voice chuckled wickedly. "I prefer Goddess." Whomever 'her' was said, politely. "And mind the suit – Gucci is so expensive to dry clean."

The screams that issued from the wide outside made the prisoner shiver in pure terror. Whatever was out there would probably come after her next, if she didn't get out of here soon.

Waiting until she could hear nothing, the girl probed the sides of the crate, searching for some way out, finding the traces of the strength that had made her such a formidable fighter.

After what seemed like hours of pushing and hitting the panels, one of the planks finally gave way, half-broken, allowing her to see just where she was and – after a great deal of struggling and wriggling – to push herself through the narrow opening.

Jagged splinters and shards pulled curls of her throbbing skin away from her bones, more blood mingling with that which was already staining her taut flesh, but the pain was ignored.

Crawling out on the dirt-coated ground with a groan, she pulled her legs free of the crate, struggling weakly to her feet, her matted, tattered dark hair falling heavily over her exhausted, pain-filled eyes.

Only when she was upright, did she finally take in her surroundings, swallowing a bitter bile as she saw three bodies, sprawled on the floor, either dead or very close to it, bodies contorted in pain.

Stepping around a shattered glass on the dusty floor, her arms crossed over her bare chest, she stumbled across the room to a table, where a large carpet bag sat, several items of clothing hanging over the sides.

Tugging free a pair of sweatpants, she pulled them on, tying the cords with fumbling hand. Hands that had never been expected to tie knots again.

Adding a hooded sweater to the ensemble, she still felt the cold seeping through her, searching for some way to escape, raking through the bag for shoes of some kind, any kind, to help her.

Her hands settled on some kinds of forms, encased in a large folder, covered in all kinds of legal-looking print.

Frowning, her fear replaced with momentary curiousity, she opened the folder, examining the contents: A picture of herself being the main subject for several pages, with notes detailing her mission, to destroy the Key, before it was too late.

Bundling as many of the pages as she could into the front pocket of the sweater, for later attention, she staggered to the three bodies and uncaringly pulled the sneakers off the smallest of the men, reasoning that he wouldn't need them if he was dead.

Then, prepared as much as she could be, she moved towards the shattered door, ready to make her escape.

*

Propping himself against the slime-coated wall of the alleyway carelessly, Spike let a soft ribbon of smoke curl into his undead lungs, his eyes focused on the glowing tip of his cigarette.

It was more interesting than watching Captain Cardboard and his shag bunny going at it again, right on the Watcher's couch. It was practically pornographic, the way those two were all over each other.

Tilting his head, the blonde vampire heard a shrill shriek. A feminine scream, that much was clear, and whoever it was that was doing the screaming, she was terrified and she wasn't too far away.

Flicking his cigarette but onto the road, he ground it out with his heel, turning in the direction of the scream. Maybe he wasn't a nice guy, be staying in the Slayer's good book and getting protection from her when need be was definitely a good thing.

As he neared, a overwhelming stench reached him, telling him just what he was up against: a mingla demon, if not a group. A combination of the scent of rotting fish and burning rubber was never easily forgotten.

Keeping to the shadows, he slipped into the passage where the scent and sounds were emanating from, immediately spotting a pair of the demons, towering over a crouching figure on the ground.

"Hey, mates." He remarked, when he stood barely inches behind them. Minglas were very large and terrifying to look at, but they were also shit-scared of vampires for some unknown reason. He let his demon come forth and almost broke into a fit a schoolgirly giggles. 

But only almost.

The shivering figure on the ground had his attention now, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her legs and she was rocking back and forward, sobbing softly.

"Hey, kid? You all right?" Whoever she was, she smelt young, but there was something odd about her scent. Something that he couldn't quite put his finger on and even her presence sent an unnerved tingle up his spine.

Slowly, she raised her bowed, hooded face to him and – if it had been possible – the vampire would have fainted away. "Jus' do it." She whispered, her voice breaking, strained and raw. "Jus' kill me."

Unable to speak, he stared at her in astonishment, her obvious frailty and complete lack of fire coming close to convincing him that he was wrong, but all of his vampiric senses screamed that she was who he thought.

Squatting down beside her, he cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face up to his and staring at her intently. "Slayer?"

Her liquid brown eyes rolled back in her head, her body slumping limply at the confused vampire's feet.

Well, he mused, bending and carefully scooping her up in his arms, if there was ever a way to get into Fluffy's good books, bringing another Slayer along for her might just do the trick.

*

"They made the delivery to the warehouses on the far side of town." Angel sketched a quick map of the warehouse involved. "I never got close enough to see what it was, but I'm assuming it was a demon or human of some kind."

Buffy was sitting in Riley's lap, drumming her stake on her knees, a frown on her face. "So these lawyers...why would they send anything to Sunnydale? I thought they just worked with people in L.A."

"As long as they get paid, they work anywhere and for anyone." The vampire didn't even look at his former love. Ever since he'd left, they'd grown apart, but – at least – now she was happy. "I heard rumours going around about a warrior returned from the dark to destroy a key."

"A Key?" The blonde was on her feet in an instant, brow furrowed in concern. "Are you sure?" She glanced from his face to Giles, biting her lower lip.

"That's only the rumours, but I couldn't make any sense of..."

"My sister." Buffy interrupted, her hands tightly gripping the back of one of the chairs, her jaw tight. "My sister is the Key."

Angel managed to hide his confusion behind the brooding mask, but couldn't resist pointing out. "But you don't have a sister."

"I'm afraid it's all r-rather complicated." Giles was immediately wiping his glasses on his sweater. "Some ancient sect of monks d-decided that to protect a powerful energy source – the-the-the key – from an equally powerful goddess of some kind, it ought to be protected by the most powerful human."

"So they transformed it into human form and sent it to you." Angel directed his comment quietly up at Buffy. "As a sister?"

The Slayer nodded wearily. "And now, this law firm of yours has brought some warrior to kill her." He gave her a quizzical look. "She may not be my real, flesh and blood sister, but I have to look after her." 

A banging at the door interrupted the meeting, the panel of wood swinging inwards, one large and muddy bootprint left on the surface as Spike barreled in, a limp body cradled in his arms.

"You might want to take a look at this." He growled, depositing her on the couch roughly and straightening up, only to notice Angel on his feet behind him, snarling at younger vampire. "Bloody hell!" His face lit up in a mockery of a jovial grin. "All we need now is the Order of Teraka, Dru, a falling organ and a burning church and we have the bloody 1997 class reunion!" He paused, thinking. "Also, no chip."

"Buffy...what's he doing here?" In full demon visage, Angel's golden eyes glowed with malice.

"He's harmless." The Slayer said calmly, Moving to the couch and leaning over the back to see just what was going on. Her face paled immediately, eyes flitting to the bleached vampire. "Where did you find her?"

"She was being beaten up by a couple of Mingla demons." He replied, his eyes fixed on the unconscious girl on the couch. "There's no doubt that it's her though. Same smell, same look, everything." He paused to scratch his jaw. "Apart from the fact that last I heard, she had kicked the bucket."

Buffy nodded weakly. "She did. Dru killed her."

"What's going on?" Giles joined the Slayer, his glasses finding their way from his nose to his hand in record time. "Good Lord! How is this possible?"

The blonde Slayer looked down at her dark counterpart. "I don't know, Research Man, but I think its safe to say we've found our Warrior brought back from the darkness. Who better to fight the Slayer for the Key, than another Slayer?"

"Who is it?" Angel rose from the table. A tingle shot through him as he approached the couch, a frown of confusion etched on his features. "The only other Slayer I know of is Faith and she's still in jail."

Buffy and Giles stepped back, revealing the girl who – several years previously – left him to burn in the sun in the backroom of Willie's Bar.

"Who is she?" Riley looked bemused, as ever, the battered girl on the couch looking more dead than alive to the young commando. He looked over at Buffy, then Giles who was moving around in the kitchen.

The blonde Slayer moved to sit on the edge of the couch, pushing the hood back from the other girl's motionless face, her expression darkening as she took in the bruises, cuts and swelling that covered the dark-haired Slayer's face. 

"She's called Kendra." Her voice was rough with emotion. "She was my first replacement, when I died in 1996. Looks like they assumed I wouldn't be able to fight her, doesn't it? I bet they tried to get to Faith too."

"So now there's three living Slayers?" Riley enquired. "Is she really back or is it temporary kinda like a zombie thing?"

Both Angel and Spike had bewildered expressions on their faces. "There's something not right about her." Spike remarked. "I know she was dead and what have you, but something about her feels wrong. Smells wrong."

"She doesn't have the scent of the living." Angel agreed. "There's no way she's a normal human, or even just a normal Slayer anymore."

Giles handed his Slayer a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth, watching in apparent consternation as she started wiping away the crusted blood and dirt from the other Slayer's emotionless features.

"So this law firm brought her back and kept her in a crate, like an animal?" The blonde's Slayer's expression was chilling. Giles comfortingly squeezed her shoulder, sensing her building fury that one of her own kind could be treated so brutally.

"Buffy, maybe you and Riley out to-to-to go and see this warehouse." He suggested softly, wishing he had the supernatural strength to kick the lily arse of anyone who dared to do such a thing to any Slayer. "Perhaps find out who it is who-who was requiring Kendra's presence."

Her hazel eyes registered confusion. "But Angel knows the way..."

"But Angel has a thing against becoming a crispy critter, pet." Spike noted dryly. He paused, frowned. "At least, as far as I know." He gestured to the small window halfway up the stairs, the beam of sunlight squinting through the lacy curtains. "I barely got here in time, but now, I'll take my blanket and leave."

As soon as the door clanked shut behind the blonde vampire, the Slayer turned back to Giles, a look of concern in her eyes. "Shouldn't someone be watching out for Dawn? In case this gang decide they don't need a Slayer after all?"

"I'll go...that is..." He gave Angel a pointed look. "Since Xander, Willow, Anya and Tara may be otherwise...er...engaged..."

"I'll stay. I don't know Dawn, so I couldn't be any help there." Angel nodded with a resigned sigh. "Although I don't know how she'll reacte to seeing me, considering the last time she saw you, you were all planning to kill me and my at-the-time girlfriend killed her."

Buffy paused, having forgotten that fact. "If she remembers," She said quietly. "Just explain that the curse worked. That's what the others were doing in the library when I was fighting you – Angelus – in the cemetary."

Angel allowed a small smile to escape. "You guys take care." He cautioned them, slipping his jacket off and settling in the place that Buffy vacated on the couch, lifting the cloth in one of his large hands and carefully starting to sponge her clean. "I'll take care of her."

*

Kneeling on the floor, Angel's hand moved rapidly over the sheet of paper, deft strokes of the lead creating a near-perfect image of the dark-haired, tawny-skinned girl who lay on the couch before him, her eyes still closed.

He still remembered fighting her at Willie's bar. She had been incredible to battle and his demon had been exulting at having some kind of competition at last, her speed, skill and agility far surpassing his blonde Slayer.

Of course, he had never told Buffy that. Fighting a skilled Slayer was one thing, fighting off a pissed off, jealous Slayer was another.

It was true that Buffy had a special quality, when fighting, but reducing yourself to punning at your foes to prove you aren't afraid really was a bit of a childish way to fight. Her technique was based on survival, while Kendra's had been through training and pain-staking focus.

Focus that Buffy never had.

"What is about me and Slayers?" He asked himself softly, shifting his weight on his knees, as he turned to deposit the sheet of paper on the coffee table.

First, there had been his almost fatal attraction to Buffy, even though he knew, he just *knew* never to trust a blonde who told him to close his eyes. Bad things always seemed to happen whenever he did that.

Then there was Kendra who had impressed him so much, he had had his ass well and truly kicked for underestimating what a Slayer really could do with the right training and upbringing. Of course, she had lacked the emotions to fight for what *she* believed until she met his former love interest.

Add Faith to the combination and he realised he had faced every aspect of Slayer - the professional one who followed the code; the independant, happy-go-lucky one with friends and allies; the lost one.

And every damn one of them had tried to kill him at least once: one because he turned evil and tried to destroy the world: one because she thought he was evil and deserved to die: one because it was fun.

So far, he'd managed to achieve closure with two out of the three, leaving the first to endup with an idiotic soldier boy, the other safely rehabilitating in jail. Only Kendra had never been given any kind of apology or explanation.

It didn't help that all the Slayers were cute little creatures, all tough and strong with that look that just screamed helplessness and vulnerability. The one on the couch in front of him was definitely no exception.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting, just watching her, when the dark smudge of her lashes fluttered, opening to reveal pain-filled liquid brown eyes that turned to him, terror diffusing into her agonised expression.

"You're awake." He picked his brains for something nice, simple, non-threatening and friendly to say. Even after two hundred years of living, he had to admit that his social skills weren't exactly anything special.

Her dark eyes narrowed suspciosly, staring at him fearfully. "A-Angelus?"

He shook his head once, in dissent, gave her a weak smile. "The curse worked." He replied, spreading his hands. "I'm just a Soulman again."

"I...I died." Shakily sitting up, she pulled the blanket that had been draped over her, up to her chin. "Didden I?"

Angel nodded. "We all do, once in a while." He sat up beside her on the couch, trying to keep his manner as unthreatening as possible. "How did you come back? Who did it to you?"

The dark Slayer shook her head wordlessly, pulling her knees up to her chest, burying her face in her slender, scored hands. "I don't know." She whispered. "I…I found some papers…dey were about me…"

"What did they say?"

She quickly rooted about under the blankets, shakily producing a wad of papers bound together with a large rubber band, photographs and receipts sticking out from all sides of it.

"I don' know how it happened." She said, her voice low, trembling. "I can't explain, but I was somewhere…den I was somewhere else…somewhere dark and dey were waiting for me and laughing…" Twin tears broken from her swollen eyes, trickling down her scabbed cheeks. "Why did dey bring me back for?"

Her tears got to the dark vampire and he moved closer, gently gathering her slight body in his arms, pulling her against his broad chest. "There has to be a purpose for everything." He murmured, stroking her thick hair gently.

"But I was dead. Drusilla…she killed me…" She argued softly, clinging to him in desperation, her shoulders shaking fitfully. "I don't even know how long dey left me dead for."

Angel nodded sympathetically. "I was killed the day after you." He felt her stiffen, heard her unasked questions and let a sad reminiscent smile creep onto his face. "To seal Acathala, Buffy sent me to Hell, just after I got my soul back. It was the end of our relationship, really."

"Dey brought you back too?"

"No. The Powers That Be kicked me out of Hell after years. Hundreds…maybe even thousands of years." A shiver ran through his body, remembering just what had happened there. "It's not somewhere I would recommend for a vacation. A bit too hot for my tastes."

Much to his surprise, the girl in his arms laughed softly at his cynical remark. "I tink it was better to just be dead an' buried." She decided. There was a moment silence, then she shifted, looking up at him. "How long was I dead for?"

"Nearly three years." Angel replied, after a minute's thought. 

She raised her hand, touched her cheeks. "I must be a mess." She said quietly, running her fingers over the welts and scores on her once-smooth skin. "Do I look like I've been…"

"No." Angel hastened to reassure her, giving her his best, clumsy, debonair smile. "I don't know what they've done, but you look exactly how I remember you, as pretty now as you were then."

Her head tilted coquesttishly. "You tink I am pretty?" She asked. Her cheeks flushed a rosy brown beneath the bruises and scrapes, yet something was puzzling the dark vampire, one of his hands pressed against her back. "What?" His expression was one of bafflement. "What is it?"

"Your heart." He managed to say faintly. She raised her hand to her chest, brow furrowing in confusion. 

"I don't feel anyting." She said. Her hand trembled. She turned it over, staring at it as if it had betrayed her. "I don't feel anyting." She repeated, a more hysterical note creeping into her voice. "Why don't I feel anyting?"

Angel shook his head, bemused. "I don't know." He could feel her body shivering against his, her fear and confusion radiating off her in waves. "Maybe the spell they used…maybe it's the kind of magick…"

"Am I still dead?" She asked sharply, staring at him with the fear he could only imagine had reflected his own after his return from hell. "Am I a zombie? De ones who did dis…do dey control me?"

"You're no zombie." Angel reassured her firmly, tilting her chin with his hand, her skin still surprisingly warm despite her lack of a pulse. Her fierce spirit still shone behind those scared eyes of a little girl. "Trust me, if you were, I wouldn't let you near me." He pulled a face. "I hate it when body parts starting falling off near me. Really puts me off my dinner."

Again, the resurrected Slayer managed to giggle weakly. If he recalled correctly, the vampire knew that this Slayer was thrown into her destiny in the same way as many passed Slayers, torn away from her family in early childhood, having no kind of normal life outwith her training.

Perhaps, in being brought back from death, this would give her a second chance at the life she had never had the chance to have: one with friends and families and everything that Buffy had been blessed with.

Alternately, she might still want to fight for the right of mankind, although she obviously wasn't going to be up to the challenge until she had rested and recovered.

"If I'm not a zombie," The girl's rational side was coming to the fore once again. She was obviously intelligent, apparently very shy, but ready to say what she thought. "I can not be a vampire. Dey took me in di daylight." She frowned. "Is dere any odder kind of demon dat can possess di body wit'out affectin' outward appearance?"

Scratching his neck with one hand, a thoughtful expression filtered onto the vampire's pale features. "I'm not sure. Do you feel anything inside you? Telling you to kill? Telling you to tear out the nearest human's throat? Telling you to go bowling with Buffy's head?"

Kendra arched an eyebrow. "Dat is what yer demon tells ye to do ta Buffy?" Angel nodded sheepishly. "Well," She gave him the smallest suggestion of a smile. "At least its wantin' ye to have some kind of exercise."

"Do all Slayers have to meet a prerequisite of being crazy?" He chuckled, shaking his head, the mischievous glint in her eye causing him to grin. The girl was still curled fearlessly against his broad chest. "Or is it just my luck to meet the stark raving mad ones?"

"Deat' does make ye take life dat little bit less seriously." She acknowledged, leaning forward and grabbing the folder off the table. "Maybe we should fin' out why dey wanted me and what dey did ta bring me back."

She flicked open the file, letting Angel climb over her to go to the kitchen to dig out some food for both of them. The microwave whirred softly to life, the sound of Angel's whistling making the undead Slayer giggle in spite of herself.

Here she was: dead, but not, sitting in the house of one of the most famous Watchers that had ever been on the council, listening to the most deadly of the Scourge of Europe making her something to eat and whistling 'Zippity-doo-da' off-key.

Skimming over the words in a number of languages, she found one passage in scrawled English, poring over it in concentration. 

"I've found somet'ing." She remarked, gratefully accepting the sandwich that the vampire proffered to her, taking a large bite before continuing, gesturing to the passage. "I've been brought back wit' a Ri'taki Umrola spell. Dey wanted be ta come and destroy somet'ing called de key...do ye know what de key is?"

"The Key." Angel leaned over her shoulder examining some of the etchings scratched onto ancient yellow parchment. "It's a powerful energy source...now, its in the form of Buffy's sister, a young girl called Dawn."

Kendra's face paled. "Dey wanted me to kill a child?"

An arm around her shoulder, Angel gave her a reassuring hug. "I think its safe to say that you're not any kind of demon." He murmured. "You haven't gone rushing out to kill her have you?" She gave a reluctant nod, staring at the runic texts

"What does dis say?" She finally asked, her cheeks flushing dark pink. Her finger directed him to a small passage that was inscribed beneath a rather interesting picture of two figures entwined in a flagrantly sexual position.

Half-smiling at her embarrassment, Angel leaned closer to examine the words. After a few moments, he frowned. "I don't recognise that language." He finally stated. "Why did you pick that part of the text?"

Kendra scratched the back of her hand awkwardly. "I do not know." She replied. "I jus'...I t'ought it might be somet'ing useful."

"I think we should get Giles around here." The vampire reached for the phone. "I don't think we should leave these documents unexplained. He'll want to understand whats going on as soon as possible."

*

"It looks like someone's cleared this place out." From one of the high gables, Buffy's eyes searched the floor of the warehouse, Riley staring up at her, waiting patiently for her to report. "I think that law firm must have had something to hide."

She started down the massive piles of crates, dropping onto her feet on the smooth concrete floor and dusting her hands down her trousers.

There wasn't any sign that the warehouse had been used for months, a thin layer of dust on the top of the highest crates, the floor free of dirt, footprints and any other thing that implied people had been there at all.

"If the law firm were trying to hide something, what would they have done, when they found your friend gone?" Riley enquired, his hair flopping over his eyes as he looked down at his petite lover.

Buffy stiffened, biting on her lower lip anxiously. "They've been destroying the evidence." She said, gesturing around them. "They cleaned this place up real good. They really want to keep all of this under wraps."

"And what do you think the last piece of evidence is?"

She turned away from him, fists balled. "They'll be going after Kendra." She replied, her voice hushed, a tremor of anger in her tone. "They try and kill her again and I'll do the same to them –very slowly and painfully."

"So I guess we're going back to Giles'?" Buffy was already storming towards the shattered door, her expression set, her body taut, ready to fight. "Um..." Riley started after her. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

He broke into a sprint and caught up with his girlfriend quickly, half wondering if he should take a chance and ask her what the deal was when she looked up at him. "You want to know about her, don't you?"

"Well, if you don't mind me asking..." He shrugged, giving her his best smile.

"You know I drowned and that she was called, right?" He nodded. "She was the first other Slayer I'd met and she was the Council's idea of a Perfect Slayer, by the book in everything that she did...I wasn't."

Riley couldn't help but grin at that. Such a perfect way to describe Buffy – everything you didn't expect her to be, she was.

"I hated her at first, until I found out what she'd lost to be a Slayer. No friends, no school, nothing." She shrugged, her pace never faltering. "I'd just started to appreciate her when she was killed by Spike's girlfriend." Riley gave her a surprised look. "Then, I was the only Slayer again. I was the only freak."

"And this law firm brought her back because they knew that Faith wouldn't fight you, after coming back to the light side?" She shrugged. "If she had gone after Dawn, would you have been able to take her down?"

For the first time, Buffy shook her head. "I don't think I could have. Not just because she was a friend...her training." She caught his gaze. "I don't think I've really ever seen anyone who can fight like Kendra. Faith fought with fury, but Kendra – she has incredible control. I've only seen her lose her cool when I was winding her up."

That thought made Riley shiver. He'd felt a fraction of Buffy's strength and didn't even want to contemplate how tough someone would have to be to actually suceed in taking the blonde Slayer down.

The remainder of the journey back to Giles' apartment was made in silence, the couple entering to find themselves face-to-face with Dawn and Joyce, Giles sitting on the couch, poring over some ancient-looking documents.

"Hey mom...Dawn..." Closing the door behind them, Buffy frowned. "What are you guys doing here? I thought Angel was watching Kendra..." Then she noticed something – or more precisely, two someones – were missing. "Where are they anyway?"

Giles waved absently in the direction of the bathroom. "K-Kendra was rather badly injured." He replied, not even looking over his shoulder at the blonde. "Angel is seeing to-to-to her wounds and removing any splinters."

"Its more serious than we thought, Giles." Buffy temporarily ignored her mother and sister who were playing scrabble at the table. "Not that bringing a Slayer back from the dead isn't important, but that law company...they've cleared the warehouse out, completely."

Giles looked up, removing his glasses and squinting at her. "Removing the evidence?" He suggested. "Did you find any suggestion of who our 'buyers' were?"

"What part of cleared out completely don't you get?" Dropping onto the couch beside him, she leaned forward to peer at the papers that were scattered all over the surface of the coffee table, some in languages she didn't recognise. "Whoa...look at Research Man go!" She picked up one of the sheets. "Where'd you get this anyway?"

The former Watcher retrieved the sheet from her with a reproving look. "Kendra had a-acquired it, before she escaped. I'm work-working on translating some segments that seem of import to us."

"Wow." Buffy leaned closer, seeming to stare at every inch of the side of his face, peering into his ear. "Whaddya know...the Librarian and Watcher we all knew and feared is still lurking in there, underneath the midlife crisis."

"Yes, very droll." Giles proved to her that he still had the power of the glare, then turned his attention back to the parchments in front of him. 

"Wait a minute," Riley spoke quietly. "You said Kendra had those sheets with her?" The older man gave him a curt nod. "Then what's to say that they don't want them destroyed as well? I mean, its all evidence, isn't it?"

Buffy's eyebrows rose. "Ho boy." She muttered. "Somehow, we always end up in trouble, even when we weren't planning on getting involved."

"Well, we've been involved, whether we like it or not." One of Giles' large, hefty magick books materialised in her hands, dropping onto her lap heavily. "Both your family and your friends are in danger."

Rolling her eyes, she started flicking through the pages. "Oh goody." She mumbled under her breath. "Research party the one time Will and Xander can't make it. I think someone really hates me up there."

*

"I'm surprised I can move." Kendra's initial embarrassment at allowing the vampire to treat her injuries had faded. At this moment, he was carefully fastening the row of buttons up the front of one of Giles' shirts to conceal her body. "I t'ink I'm a walking stickin' plaster."

Angel grinned at her. "Just a precaution." He reminded her, smoothing the shirt on her slim shoulders. She gave him a skeptical look. "I know, I know, you have Slayer healing...I just have a thing for putting plasters on people."

"You are a strange vampire." Kendra's expression went serious for a moment, but she couldn't hide the smile his contagious grin brought out in her. She tried to raise her hands to tie her hair back, wincing as a pain shot through the muscle.

"Here." Angel took the elastic band she was planning on using, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wrapped the band around the base three times, stepping back to admire his ragged and extremely off-centre attempt. "Perfect!"

Glancing under his arm, she saw her full reflection in the mirror and arced an eyebrow at him, as if to say "What the hell have you done to my hair?". Instead, though, she reached up and brushed a kiss against his cheek. "T'ank you." She said sincerely.

"Ready to go and face your audience?" He offered her his arm for support, the cuts and swelling on both her legs still making walking an effort. Wrapping one hand around his wrist, she levered herself up and flashed him a pained grin.

Opening the bathroom door, he helped her to walk through, only to be engulfed in a hug from a relieved blonde Slayer. "Buffy!"

"Oh!" The blonde stepped back, shrugged. "I forgot, you don't hug."

Kendra couldn't help but smile. "It's not dat." She reassured her firmly. "It just hurts dat you hugged me so hard." She turned her plaster-covered hands over. "Angel t'inks I needed a lot of deese...I t'ink your boyfriend is crazy."

"Ex-boyfriend." Buffy and Angel both put in, a little more sharply than was necessary.

"Oh...I forgot." Kendra gave them both a sheepish shrug. "I t'ink deat' might have played wit' me memory."

"I only told you an hour ago." Angel reprimanded, helping her over to one of the seats and to sit down. She gave him a helpless look.

"You t'ink I can remember everyt'ing you say? You have one of dem voices dat makes me feel sleepy."

Angel gave her an annoyed look. "You mean I sound boring?"

She looked up at him innocently, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I didden say dat, did I?" She pouted at him. "You t'ink I would be stupid enough ta tell a vampire dat I t'ought he was borin'?"

"Okay...this is wiggy..." Buffy looked to Giles for confirmation. He – too – was watching the scene with interest and confusion. "Who are you and just what the hell have you done with out Kendra and Angel?"

Kendra drew her attention from the smirking vampire who was towering over her. "We were comparin' stories." She replied, nodding up Angel. "He told me about bein' in hell and I told him about bein' dead."

"And you've been at my bottle of Scotch."

Both the undead Slayer and the vampire looked shocked at the accusation. "We only used it to clean her wounds out." Angel growled in feigned in annoyance. "You must be the only human with no antiseptic lotion anywhere in the house."

"There was some on the shelf above the sink in the bathroom." Giles pointed out dryly.

"Um..." Angel's face split into an unconventional grin, his eyes glinting with devilry. "Looks like my little prank was found out..."

Kendra frowned up at him. "You're tellin' me ye spiked me drink?" Angel gave her an mock innocent drink. "Ye did, diden ya!"

"You said I did." He looked everywhere but at her, biting on his lower lip to stop a wider grin escaping. "Anyway, you were unconscious. I thought dribbling some whisky down your throat might bring you round a bit quicker."

Kendra blinked at him. "Am I drunk, den?"

"Nah." He sat down on the arm of the chair and let her pillow her head against his hip, running a hand over her head gently. "Just relaxed enough not to go completely insane on us." He felt her yawn, snuggle closer. "You wanting to sleep, little one?"

Nodding against his side, she managed to murble. "Mmm-hmm."

"You want me to look after her until we decipher those pages?" The vampire offered. "If the mansion is still deserted, I can look after her up there. No one would suspect it and its quiet enough for her to recover." He half-smiled at his words. "Recovering from death...that sounds kind of strange."

Joyce looked over from her game. "Are you sure it wouldn't be better for her to stay with us?"

"Not if Wolfram and Hart are looking for her." Angel shook his head. "They don't know I'm here and they won't suspect the old mansion. If she had been under their control, they wouldn't have lost her, but since shes free-thinking, they know she'd come to you first for help." He paused, turned to face the sleeping girl. "And I know what she's going through." He added.

"So how will we contact you when we find out anything?"

Angel pulled a disgusted face and dipped a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a small, square black object. "Call me."

Buffy muffled a snort of laughter. "You've got a cellphone?"

"Blame Cordelia." Her ex-lover glowered at her furiously, "Don't know how to work the damn thing, so if you can figure out what the number is, use it." Buffy took the phone from him, finding the number immediately. Angel growled softly. "I hate technology."

Retrieving his jacket, he pulled it on, taking the bundle of pages that Giles had assigned to him and stuffing them unceremoniously in his pocket, before returning to Kendra's side and carefully lifting her up in his arms, her own arms draping around his neck instinctively.

Buffy slipped his phone into his jacket and reached up to murmur. "Don't you be getting my fellow Slayer drunk again. Dead or not, I don't want her to get a hangover at the same time, you got that?"

"Yes, mum." Angel nodded, heading for the door, which Dawn hurried to shut behind him.

Buffy gazed at the panel of wood for a long moment, dragging her attention back to Giles and the abundant wads of parchment and the scraps of musty paper that had caught the Englishman's interest. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"Hmm?"

"The papers. How long is it going to take to translate them all?" Buffy repeated.

Giles spread his hands in a shrug. "I-I-I honestly couldn't say." He replied absently, scratching his jaw with the leg of his glasses, a frown furrowing his brow. "There are a great many languages that I-I-I will have to translate..."

"So, until you've figured out how, who, why and what we're up against, Riley and I better be on our guard for any demon people coming to try and get rid of Kendra?" She hefted one of the battle axes from the floor and grinned. "I haven't had a good fight in ages."

Giles had to chuckle softly. He had to be the only Watcher in the world who had been unlucky enough to have three Slayers on the go at once. He wondered what the Council would have to say about the jailed one, the undead one and the rebel one. 

Sometimes, the Hellmouth really did the strangest things.

*

Carefully laying the half-asleep girl on the bed that had once been his, he sat down on the mattress beside her, her dark eyes holding his impenetrable gaze. Raising one hand, he ran his knuckles lightly over her bruised cheek.

"Feeling any better?" He asked gently. She was definitely looking better, now that her Slayer healing had kicked in properly. Her cuts were fading away, the puffiness around her eyes reducing rapidly.

She nodded, patted on the expanse of mattress along side her. "Don't leave me alone." She whispered fearfully. "I don't like being on my own again."

Angel nodded, knowing just what she felt. Walking around to the other side of the bed, he lay down alongside her, letting her curl against him for comfort and reassurance, her head resting against his chest, hands clutching his shirt tightly.

With an arm around her shoulder, the dark vampire recalled the nights he and Buffy had ended up napping side-by-side in this particular bed and – although the memories were good ones – he found he no longer thought of Buffy or his memories of her every moment of the day.

Instead, he had somehow ended up with another Slayer sharing his bed. 

One who was as vulnerable and weak as he had been when he had been turfed out of hell to continue to do 'good work' until he was deemed good enough to become human. For some reason, it seemed that it was going to be a long time in coming.

Propping his head on his left hand, he stared up at the ceiling and blew out a long sigh. Beside him, the dark Slayer shifted, a shiver passing through her. "Angel?" Her voice was more of a whimper than a word.

Turning his head, he found her staring up at him. "What is it?"

"You won't let dem kill me again, will you?" She whispered desperately, pleading. Her helplessness, the lost expression in her dark, tear-filled eyes settled it. There was no way he could let this girl die again.

"They'll have to kill me first." He promised and was surprised to feel his demon agreeing with his decision. Apparently Angelus rather liked the Jamaican Slayer: her fire, her strength and – unsurprisingly – her undead status appealing to the demon.

Content with that reply, she nestled against him again, Giles' shirt rough against the vampire's hand as he soothingly stroked the girl's back.

*

Her attacker swung out of the shadows, larger than her. Immediately, a flash of silver arced through the air, embedding itself in the still-moving form, with was knocked six feet backwards with the impact of the throw.

Running over on her toes, she squatted, wrapped her hand around the handle and jerked the glinting blade free, the innards of her attacker spilling through the torn hide.

A catlike footfall behind her made her whip round, the knife leaving her hand at blinding speed, the dark vampire ducking just in time with a yelp of dismay as the shining blade skimmed across the top of his head.

Balanced on one knee, her breathing heavy, the dark-haired Slayer rested one hand on the floor, inhaling several slow breaths and giving the fallen vampire a weak grin.

"So you're back to full strength I see." He remarked dryly, picking himself up and running a hand through his hair, a shorn lock coming away in his hand, one of his eyebrows arching reprovingly at her.

Kendra shrugged. "I t'ink I could be better." She wandered passed him to retrieve her small throwing knife. "I killed yer punch bag t'ough." She gestured to the sand that had spilled from the ragged tear in the leather.

"You think you could be better?" Angel gave a dry laugh. "All you've done for the last week is train and you damn near decapitated me just a second ago. I think you're doing pretty good for someone who was dead less than two weeks ago."

The Slayer turned her knife in her hands, tracing a fingertip up the blade. "It wouldn't have decapitated ye." She remarked, taking a step towards the vampire. Rising on her toes, she positioned the tip of the blade against his neck and continued to talk clinically. "It would have passed t'rough...comin' out..." She pressed against a spot at the back of his neck. "Here."

"Which would just hurt like hell?" He suggested.

"Oh no." She shook her head, pressed harder against the spot on the back of his neck. "Ye feel dat?" Pain shot through his skull, the pressure hitting the right nerves and muscles with agonising accuracy. He nodded, grimacing. "It would sever dees nerves...ye'd be paralysed from de neck down." A small smile curved her lips. "Den, ye'd be at me mercy." She pushed herself higher on her toes to whisper, her mouth close to his ear. "Both of ye."

Both demon and soul blinked in astonishment. /She knows I'm in here?/ Angelus seemed more surprised than Angel. /You know, Slutty never admitted that I was really in here, but that little bitch there is threatening us both if we get out of hand. I think I'm starting to like the little spitfire. She'd be one helluva torture demon, wouldn't she? All that knowledge.../

Angel didn't need his demon to point out the fact that Kendra was, by far, more intelligent than Buffy had been. Using quiet threats over cheesy puns to gain the interest of some of the fiercest demons in the world. 

She'd never let you back in control, without one helluva fight. Angel cautioned his less precautious self. You heard her. She could easily disable us, before we knew...you knew what was happening.

/Dost my ears deceive me? Is the great wuss speaking to humble little me?/

You know I'm right about this one. Angel glanced at the girl who was balancing on her toes by the fireplace, sharpening the blade of her knife carelessly. You hated Buffy. That was fair. This one is different. This one's a warrior.

Angelus chuckled. /What is it about you getting attracted to the wrong kind of women? They all try to kill you and still, you wanna get 'em. First there was Darla, then Slutty, then that Faith bitch and now, this one. Must be the danger thing. Unless you just want someone to kick your ass for pleasure./

You disagree about Kendra?

/Just wanna know how such a great fighter could be bumped off by Dru./

Angel unconsciously ran a hand through his hair. That freaky thing she did with her eyes, I guess. That was enough to terrify Darla.

/Have you heard how mum is doing then?/

No comment.

/Just because you have someone else's pants that you want to get into./ Angel arched a mental eyebrow. /Oh, come on, Soulboy. Look at her! After blonde sluts, you've always liked dark girls and we both know it. This one has brains and brawn and the balls to match./

Angel groaned. The day his demon fancied the undead Slayer as much as he liked her had finally come and it was an exceptionally surreal experience.

"What is it?" Kendra looked up at him. Clad in cut-off jeans and a sports bra, her retoned muscles glistened with a sheen of perspiration, her dark hair braided into dozens of tight, narrow plaits, held together with a rubber band.

The vampire shook his head. "Nothing important." He replied, hollowly, longing for the moment that Giles would produce the meaning of the texts and scrolls, just so he could finally put temptation well and truly behind him and go back to working in L.A.

/Wuss./

Just shut up.

He could hear Angelus chortling. /Three Slayers, one after another, and you've wanted them all. Sad excuse for a vampire, that's what you are./

If you don't shut up I'll...

"Angel!" Kendra's voice had sank to a hiss, her lithe body sinking into a fighting pose, her knife clutched in one hand, her other hand sliding a stake into the solid chain that she had slung around her waist when he was talking to himself. "Dere's somet'ing out dere."

Reaching to pluck one of his ancient swords from the old closet, he weighted in his hands, shifting his balance as he exchanged glances with the girl. "Ready to fight?"

Her eyes were burning with a ferocity he hadn't seen since she had returned, a wicked smile curving her mouth up. "I t'ink I'm goin' to make dis me t'erapy. A vial of Holy Water emerged from her cleavage, a naughty grin flashed at Angel. "I'm all prepared." 

She seemed to melt into the barely perceptible shadows seconds before the door crashed inwards, two of whatever kind of emons they were being cut down before they even managed to cross the threshhold, Kendra's blade moving in intricately deadly slashes.

Vamping out, Angel joined in the fray, but soon, the pair realised they were dangerously outnumbered by about six to one, despite all their best efforts and no matter how many they killed, more seemed to spring from no where.

"We need help!" Kendra ducked under a blow from one of the group of atackers, smashing her foot up to shatter the back of the demon's skull, its body falling – inert – in the stone floor. "We have ta find Buffy!"

Twisting another of their attacker's heads a good one hundred and eighty degrees, Angel nodded, tackling a demon that was about to attacked the girl and ripping its throat out savagely, his eyes blazing. "Come on." Grabbing her hand, he broke into a sprint, leading her through the labyrinthine passages and up stairs to the first level of the mansion.

"Oh. Dis helps. So we fall to our deat's radder dan let dem get us." She gave a muffled shriek of surprise when the vampire swung her up in his arms and dropped himself out of the high window, plumeting towards the ground like a stone.

The demon on the ground below them had no idea what hit it, no idea what squashed its bones to a bloody pulp, crushing it into the ground with the impact of the twin body weight smashing squarely down on its head.

"Who said anything about falling?" Angel gave the girl a devilish grin, depositing on her feet, still grasping her hand in his. "Come on."

Keeping up with the vampire's headlong sprint easily, the girl shook her head and muttered in feigned disgust. "Show off."

*

"Vamp heading this way!"

Jerking a stake out of the holster on his hip, Riley tossed it to his girlfriend, his own pointy piece of wood gripped firmly in his hand.

On cue, a fledgeling exploded from the bushes behind the teaching assistant, grabbing him around the neck, aiming its fangs for his bared jugular.

"Hey ugly!" Catching the vampire's attention for a heartbeat, Buffy lunged forward as Riley swung the unprepared demon over his shoulder, slamming it down on its back on the ground, in time for Buffy to delicately jab a stake through its heart.

Straightening up, wheezing for breath that had been blocked by the vampire's arm, Riley grinned at her. "Good job."

"Too easy." She shrugged, tensing, eyes flicking about. "We've got company..." Spinning, she came face-to-face with Angel and Kendra racing headlong between the towering tombstones and mausoleums.

"Hey dere Buffy." Kendra put in breezily, hands on her hips as she doubled over, taking deep breaths. "Want ta help us fight some nasty assassins?"

"Just point the way." The blonde Slayer gave her dark, undead counterpart a wide grin, pulling a long dagger from a sheath concealed on her back much to both the males astonishment. "I need a good fight. How many?"

"A lot." Angel put in. "We must have killed about half a dozen, but more kept on coming and coming out of no where."

Kendra nodded in agreement. "Dey were strong and very big. I've never seen a demon like dees ones before."

"You mean ones like those ones?" Riley pointed over their shoulders, where a flock of the aforementioned demons were charging towards them, screeching and howling what seemed to be their battle cries.

"Dats dem." Kendra agreed, swiftly spinning and steadying her blade, tearing the chain from her waist and wielding it like a ready-made ninja weapon. "Shall we take t'ree each, den see what happens?"

"You're a bit overconfident aren't you?"

The dark-haired Slayer cast a glance up at Angel. "I'm dead." She reminded him, brighter than usual. "What do I have ta lose?" As the assassins neared, she touched the vampire's arm. "Angel, let him out." She hissed softly.

"What?"

"Angelus." She stated sharply. "Let him out. He can fight harder dan you."

Beside her, Riley and Buffy exchanged baffled looks. Angel nodded, let his face shift and grinned down at the dark girl.

"Smart little bitch, aren't you?"

"Only when I am in di presence of an arrogant bastard." She replied with the tiniest suggestion of a grin up at him.

Then all Hell broke loose.

*

Sprinting across the clearing, Kendra could still hear the sounds of her friends and allies fighting off her attackers, the pounding of seven sets of demon feet shaking the ground beneath her.

Glancing back, she only realised her mistake too late, colliding with the barrel-like chest of one of the huge demons.

Backpedalling, her heel caught on the rim of a horizontal gravestone, her balancing succumbing to the forces of gravity, but her agility helping her to roll to her feet on the damp grass.

Spinning to run in the opposite direction, twin sets of claws locked around her upper arms, one of the demon's leering at her, its multi-faceted eyes glinting in the half-obscured moonlight.

"You are ours!" It's voice bubbled through the tiny mouth flap, the pressure on her arms making the dark Slayer wince.

Jerking her feet up swiftly, she slammed them against it's chest, propelling herself backwards and twisting, her flesh tearing beneath the claws. "I belong to no one." She hissed in response, ducking under a sweeping blow.

Another two of her attackers emerged from the shadows. "Then," The apparent leader stated calmly, its voice low, melifluous. "You will die, Slayer."

Kendra shrugged, one foot snapping up behind her and smashing in the face of one of the demons that had been trying to sneak up on her. "I'm already dead." She reversed the blow, practically taking the same demon's head off.

She didn't see the blow when it came, though.

Freezing, her hands falling to clutch at her chest, she looked down in unspoken horror at the ragged claw that was protruding between her breasts, the burning pain between her shoulder blades implying where it had entered.

Lukewarm blood glistened on the tip of the claw, no doubt from her heart that had been skewered on the weapon, a trickle of crimson dribbling ticklishly from the corner of her slack lips.

She raised her head in time to see Angel – still in game face – exploding from behind one of the mausoleums, his eyes falling on her, his expression changing to one of pure, unfettered rage.

Behind her, the demon hastily withdrew it's deadly claw, leaving the Slayer to slump to the ground, blood spurting from the gaping hole in her chest.

Kendra fell, slowly, dizzyingly.

And, above her, she was faintly aware of Angel bellowing in agonised fury, the group of demons all turning on him and screaming that spine-tingling battle cry, preparing to attack.

*

Sitting on the floor, piles of books reaching shoulder height around him, Giles' face was a mask of exhaustion.

So far, his attempts to unravel the meaning behind the documents, manuscripts and papers had drawn blanks, occasional lines and fragments making a little sense, only to lose all semblance of meaning when added to the translation of a single word. 

Scratching his chin pensively, the stubble rasped against his fingertips, his ink-darkened fingers leaving smudges of black on his tired skin.

Picking up another of his ancient books, he started flicking through the musty pages, clouds of dust rising from the seams, dancing on the beams of light streaking from the lamps on the table.

A frayed page slipped from the leather-bound book, fluttering to the floor. With a frown, Giles stretched down and picked it up from the rug, turning it over slowly in one hand.

"Strange." He murmured, lowering the large book to the floor, freeing his hand to unfold the scrap, the faded lettering suddenly on the crisp, yellowed parchment suddenly screaming up at him. 

Snatching one of the sheets of paper from the table Giles threw off his exhaustion like a towel and shifted to the table, grabbing his pain and notebook, making reams of notes hastily in the margin.

Sinking down in the chair, both the notepad, pen and papers fell from his limp hands, scattering across the table and floor, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. "Good Lord." He managed to say, in a strangled whisper.

*

Pinned down by four demons, Angelus and Angel were both roaring with impotent fury, struggling against the attackers that had killed his young friend again, despite all his promises. 

Two of the demons had claws locked around his throat and arms, cutting off his unecessary breath, while two more battered at his head and body with the sealed fist-like appendages, blocking him off from anything.

Behind them, neither Angel or any of the demons saw the girl they had so efficiently assassinated get shakily to her feet, brushing the dirt off her body and staring at the gaping hole in her chest, the blood still dripping steadily from it.

Raising her head, an unearthly glow in her dark eyes, she crept over towards the, chain in one hand and dagger in the other.

Sagging to his knees, the grip on his arms and throat abruptly gone, the dark vampire raised his head, one hand brushing over the bruised flesh of his neck. His eyes widened when he saw who had just dragged his assailants away.

"Ye stabbed me." The girl had her chain noosed round one of the demon's throats, twisting it around her arm until it was effectively cutting into the scaly flesh. 

In her other hand, a dagger had just been thrust into the second demon's gullet, one of the four already spread-eagled on the ground, oozing ichor from a deep slash across its neck that had practically decapitated it.

The fourth of the group was lying – alive but motionless – on the ground, staring up at the girl with apparent terror. Blood runneling from a stab wound through its neck suggested that her paralysing technique had worked.

"I don' like ta be stabbed." She gave the chain an extra twist, the demon uttering a faint squak before its hea was effectively torn off, bouncing off a headstone and landing on the ground with a thump. "And I don' like bein' killed."

The fourth demon was flailing and clawing at her, tearing the girl's flesh, but she didn't seem to notice, tensing her whole body. Then stabbing upward with such a ferocity that the demon flipped over backwards, the small but deadly blade near splitting its body in two.

Tucking her chain back around her waist carefully, she slid the dagger back into place and turned her attention to the beaten Angel, one hand pressed carefully to her bleeding chest. "Are you all right?" She sank to her knees beside him, wincing at the blackening that covered his face.

"What about you?" Grasping her hand, he pulled it away from her body and stared at the open wound in shock. How in the Hell had she survived an injury like that? It would – should – have killed her.

She shrugged. "I don' feel any different…a bit sticky wit di blood, but I don' hurt and I don't feel…well…dead."

"Are you guys okay?" Buffy and Riley – equally battered – rounded the nearest mausoleum, stopping short in shock at the gaping hole that they could clearly see between Kendra's shoulder blades.

Angel's eyes shot up, fixing on Riley, his lips curving back from his teeth in a guttural snarl, one arm snaking around Kendra's body defensively, pulling her closer with a muffled shriek of surprise.

"What are you doin'?" The dark Slayer demanded, her tiny smile of pleasure betraying her stern tone. 

"Um…" Unaware that he demonic visage was still visible, Angel gave her a dopey grin that looked laughable around his deadly fangs. "Just didn't want you to get hurt by any idiots that were running around."

Letting her rise, the vampire got to his feet, both of them supporting each other. "I tink we should go an' see your Watcher." Kendra decided, glancing down at the wound in her chest that was starting to heal over. "Dis is wiggy."

Together, the four hurriedly started towards the gates of the cemetary, with only Buffy noticing that Angel kept Kendra as far as possible from Riley, the only other male in the area.

*

Sitting at the table, Giles was practically ignoring his younger guests, his efforts at translating having become much more successful in the light of the documents he had found in one of his books.

Riley and Buffy both sat at the table, watching him frenetically writing down notes and translations, occasionally glancing over at the couch.

Kendra had been patched up and was lying – apparently asleep – on it, a light blanket draped over her body. Angel was sitting defensively beside her, his golden eyes burning fiercely at anyone who tried to approach.

"A-ha!"

Buffy's head snapped round. "Research man speaks!"

Giles raised his eyes to her, a threat of a smile sparking in his eyes. "I've discovered the error our lawyer friends made in the spell they used to bring Kendra back from the grave." He stated, clearly proud of his achievement.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense!"

Over the back of the couch, Kendra's sleepy eyes focused on the Watcher. "What did dey do?"

"From what I can tell, they substituted valig essense with-with-with togru roots. By changing the incantation's meaning and the products used in the spell they-they effectively rendered you unkillable."

The Slayer arched an eyebrow. "Dat is until I die of old age?"

Shaking his head, Giles leaned over from the table to hand her a couple of sheets of paper, leaping back swiftly when Angel sent a rumbling growl in his direction, baring his fangs once more.

Pushing Angel back from her, Kendra's eyes skimmed over the words, one shaking hand rising to her mouth in a gesture of confusion and worry. "How…how can dis be true?" She asked hesitantly. "Di spell…it should not have worked."

"I'm not completely certain." Giles shrugged helplessly. "Somehow, the powers they used were twisted. You-you have been granted immortality, bound to the life of another immortal warrior."

Kendra flopped back against the arm of the sofa with a low groan. "Some yer sayin' I'm still di Slayer an' nothin' is ever gonna kill me." She threw her hands over her face. "Den, ye tell me I'm bound to another immortal warrior who is never goin' to die…dis is great. Just great."

"Um…" Tapping her on the knee, Angel gave her a wry, fang-filled grin. "I think I can make it worse…" She arched an eyebrow at him skeptically. "That other Immortal Warrior…it's me."

With more of her developing crazed personality, Kendra wailed. "First, dey bring me back an' put me in a box. Den, dey try an' kill me but only manage ta leave a hole in me chest. Den, ya tell me I can't die and I am gonna be stuck wit' Angel an' Angelus til he dies. Dis is not fair!"

Angel gave her a wicked grin. "Oh, come on." He remarked. "It might not be that bad…after all, I do know how to do my own laundry…"

"I'll say it again." Kendra moaned, much to the amusement of the other observers. "I tink dis is not fair."

*

Both elbows propped on the desk, Cordelia carefully rounded the tip of her nail with the file, her brown eyes focused on the perfect cuticles. Wesley was rambling on about something, but neither of them could do anything until Angel got back.

He was due to arrive any minute and had told them that he had brought someone new to work for the company which – Cordelia had pointed out – meant less pay for the more reliable and long-term members of staff.

The sun had just vanished over the horizon when there was a screaming of brakes outside the hotel and the sound of metal smashing into stonework, most probably the side of a nearby building.

Moving to the window, both Cordelia and Wesley saw Angel stagger unsteadily out of the passenger side of his car, clutching his bleeding forehead and laughing like a crazed lunatic.

Blue eyes met brown. The former cheerleader shrugged expressively, turning away from the window and returning to the desk, as Angel's voice floated up. "You could have told me you didn't know how to drive!"

"You didden ask." A female voice rang back, equally merry.

Moments later, the door of the office swung inwards, Angel stomping in and grabbing a handful of kleenex from a box on the desk to stem the flow of blood from his temple.

"Clutzy much?" Cordelia drawled.

"Don't blame me." Angel grumbled, gesturing to the figure who was still hovering in the doorway. "My new partner in crime decided she wanted to see just how far her immortality would go, so she crashed my car."

"You tol' me dat di odder pedal was di brake." The girl stepped into the room, her arms folded across her chest. "It was yer own fault, Angelus."

Cordelia started to her feet in surprise. "*This* is your new partner in crime?" She echoed in disbelief. "My God, Angel! What is it with you and Slayers?"

"I've been asking myself the same question." Angel grinned ruefully, drawing Kendra alongside him, his arm around her shoulder. He noticed the confused look on Wesley's face. "This is who Wolfram and Hart had taken to Sunnydale." He clarified quickly. "Kendra, the immortal, undead vampire Slayer and Faith's predecessor, meet Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, former Watcher and Rogue Demon hunter."

"Good Lord!" Immediately snatching his glasses off, he frantically started cleaning the lenses. "How is this…"

The vampire smiled and handed the other man a large file, filled withh papers and documentation. "This explains everything, Wes." He replied. "But, for now, I want to know what I've missed while I was gone."

Still staring at the undead Slayer, Wesley took a minute to gather his thoughts. "Ah, yes. Darla and Drusilla have been causing some trouble while you were gone. They attacked a youth hostel and killed several of Gunn's team."

"Drusilla?" Kendra's voice was as cold as ice. 

Angel turned to her, the look in her dark eyes making both soul and demon cower away in fear. "I forgot to mention that she was here, didn't I?" He spoke sheepishly, trying to feign innocence.

Her sinister expression melted away into a wickedly devilish grin. "I can't wait to see her face when she sees me." The Slayer murmured, her tone chilling. "Di only Slayer she killed comin' back to kill her."

Her attitude told Angel that his new Slayer wasn't lying or exagerrating. Her confidence in her strengths and abilities had increased with her immortality. If she said Drusilla was going to die, it meant that Drusilla was going to die.

And – like Kendra – the dark vampire couldn't wait to see the expression on the insane vampiress' face when she saw who her Slayer was.


End file.
